


intoxicate & refixate

by villagepsychic



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Childhood Friends, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Linear Narrative, Recreational Drug Use, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 08:50:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20739536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/villagepsychic/pseuds/villagepsychic
Summary: Sylvain and Felix aren’t in love, if you ask Felix. If you ask Sylvain, or Ingrid, or Dimitri, even, they’d frame their relationships with each other out with smudged gray lines and a confused look on each face - such is life, and love, and all the things Sylvain doesn't want to talk about.





	intoxicate & refixate

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this in between a fic for sylvix week and a fic for halloween and didn't really think i'd finish but here i am and ready to offer 7k of depression. i tried a new writing style with this fic, so bear with me!
> 
> [i miss the days - nf](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fy9YETB068M)

He’s smoking again.

The stench of it hits Sylvain in the face like a crashing wave of an increased risk of lung disease as he steps into Felix’s small studio apartment, and he sighs, disappointed. He thinks about last week, when he’d begged Felix to stop the ugly habit, and then thinks about how Felix probably wasn’t even listening. He toes off his shoes as quietly as possible and leaves them off to the side next to Felix’s dirty sneakers and shuts the door behind him.

Felix is in the alcove where he normally sits because he likes to look out the window when he doesn't want to think and can’t go to the gym because he’d just gone a few hours ago, but Sylvain makes his first stop at the tiny space Felix calls his kitchen to set a few bags full of groceries down. From here, he can angle himself just so to see the back of Felix’s head. The younger boy knows he’s here, but doesn't acknowledge him.

Sylvain always takes the first step.

“I thought you had several complaints up against you about the smell,” he says, approaching Felix and sliding down against the wall across from him to sit cross-legged on the floor.

“What of it?” Felix doesn't turn around. The window’s open, so he supposes that’s something. All it does is bring in the smell of city and chilly incoming rain, though Sylvain doesn't comment on it.

“Have you considered,” he says slowly, “that you could get kicked out for breaking the rules as much as possible?”

Felix scoffs a bit. On days where neither of them feel like absolute shit, he’d drop the stub of his cigarette down the four floors it takes to get to the ground, and then turn around to face Sylvain before saying _ I wasn’t even smoking_. Today isn’t one of those days. He takes a drag. “That’s cool. I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, you do,” Sylvain chuckles. “If you don’t have your own living space you go crazy. Remember when you had to share a dorm room with Dimitri and Claude?”

“Don’t remind me,” Felix says, but he’s turning around to look Sylvain up and down and that’s progress. “The amount of times I stubbed my damn toes on Claude’s novels and Dimitri’s history books… absolutely disgusting.”

This makes him laugh. Felix doesn't need to be handled delicately, so Sylvain doesn't treat him like his one night stands and lab partners during class and everything in between. But Felix needs a special kind of treatment, the kind Sylvain thinks he needs too. They only ever know how to provide it to each other.

So Sylvain doesn't stop Felix from getting up and nudging Sylvain’s knees apart with the toe of his sock-covered foot. From here, the white-gray light of the sky frames his outline and eclipses him so Sylvain can’t see the look on his face, but that’s probably how Felix wants it. He doesn't bother straining his neck to look up and into his always-cold gaze so he closes his eyes instead and says, “You really need to quit.”

Felix bends down to tangle his fingers in Sylvain’s hair and tug the way he knows Sylvain likes it. “Do I now?”

He says this every time Sylvain asks and begs and orders him to quit smoking. He can’t help but feel special, because when Dimitri and Ingrid do it, they get an irritable Felix in their faces. “Yeah. But you won’t. I get it.”

“I’m sure you do,” Felix replies dryly, kneeling down to press a surprisingly soft kiss to Sylvain’s forehead before he gets back up again and pads off to the kitchen. “I hope you got the cereal I like, you idiot.”

Sylvain snorts as he hauls himself up, reaching out to close the window before he glances at Felix’s hands as they deftly take out the groceries Sylvain had dutifully gotten for him and notes the absence of the cigarette he’d just been smoking. He peeks out the window and down at the concrete below and doesn't spot anything down there, but that’s probably just because they’re high up in this apartment block and Sylvain’s glasses are his lifeline, and he sighs. _ A menace even to the environment_, he thinks, before closing the window and walking over to the kitchen to help Felix put everything where it belongs.

They don’t live together because Sylvain is a neat freak and loves to bring people home every night, and Felix lives life like he’s cursed with a tornado blowing through his living space every day and he hates bringing people home. But it’s not like he doesn't fuck around, too. Sylvain likes to think this is how he’s made his mark on his friend, but that’s probably not a very positive mark to make on anyone.

Felix lives alone, and so does Sylvain. He’d shared an apartment with Ingrid for a few months as she transitioned between programs and a new job, but he quickly learned that he just doesn't enjoy other people around constantly. He likes his own space. Dimitri lives with Ingrid now, since Claude left for a semester abroad.

The four of them have known each other long enough to go weeks - and in a few specific cases, months - without contact and still be just fine when they next see each other, but over the past few years Sylvain’s felt the urge to see or talk to Felix constantly growing on him, so he stops by from time to time. Felix stops by decidedly less often, but he doesn't mind, because when Felix does visit he usually has food and beer and a few video games and they spend the night poorly holding down their liquor while Sylvain jokes and flirts and Felix replies with the shortest sentences he can come up with. Sometimes they hook up, and it’s great. Sometimes they lay in Sylvain’s bed while he throws an arm around Felix’s waist and they talk about how shitty their parents are and how shitty their majors are and how shitty life is. That’s great too.

But Sylvain and Felix aren’t in love, if you ask Felix. If you ask Sylvain, or Ingrid, or Dimitri, even, they’d frame their relationships with each other out with smudged gray lines and a confused look on each face - such is life, and love, and all the other things Sylvain doesn't really feel like talking about.

“He spent the night over again, didn’t he,” Ingrid says tiredly, cutting through his thoughts, and Sylvain groans. Yeah, he doesn't want to talk about it. But he doesn't exactly have a choice with Ingrid hovering around.

“So what?”

She rolls her eyes as she drops her backpack on the ground next to his bed and haughtily ignores his yelp of annoyance. “He spends the night over all the damn time,” she says, “like sex is a drug to you two, and you’re both hopelessly addicted.”

“Nice analogy,” Sylvain drawls, and she mimes stomping on his foot from where he sits on the foot of his neatly made bed. “You spend far too much time hanging around Dorothea, and yet I never force a penny out of you for your thoughts.”

Here, she flushes, and Sylvain rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Sylvain. This is different.”

Sylvain could say a million things about how the way Ingrid follows Dorothea around like a moth to the flame is definitely a bit of an annoyance, especially when he’s trying to get her to buy breakfast for him on days when he accidentally sleeps in, but he chooses not to mention it. Mostly because she would definitely stomp on his feet this time around and he isn’t keen on hobbling on one foot for the next few days, bless Ingrid and her steel-toed boots.

The sun lies through its teeth as it warms his back and casts shuttered light onto his bed and the ground, because it’s a freezing November day out. Ingrid purses her lips as she looks at Sylvain like she’s trying to see straight through him but can’t quite get there. “How are you doing?” She asks. “And how is Felix? I don’t get much time to talk to him these days.”

“You mean he doesn't want to talk to you,” Sylvain supplies, and Ingrid’s soft gaze turns hard with annoyance.

“Finals are approaching. He’s probably stressed out. He’ll get over it.”

They had a spat only two weeks ago. Sylvain never bothered asking what it was over, but knowing the two of them, it probably had something to do with a ghost that haunts the four of them but leaves Sylvain alone for the most part. “I’ll let you believe that,” he says.

Ingrid punches his arm with more force than necessary. “Seriously, shut _ up_. But answer my question. How are you two?”

Sylvain shrugs, a mechanical lift of his shoulders. “Stressed and depressed,” he replies easily. “As college life tends to be.”

Ingrid frowns. He knows she doesn't understand, because Ingrid is happy and has her degree secured and has Dorothea and Ashe around all the time, which has to account for _ something _ in terms of happy pills. As for him? He’s a budding art teaching assistant. Maybe a wilting one. And Felix… 

“Felix is okay too,” Sylvain decides to tack on. “Did you know he got accepted into a dance team on campus? He’s on top of his studies, too. I’m jealous.”

“A _ dance team_?” Ingrid exclaims, incredulous. “Our Felix? What the hell?”

“I guess you never know someone unless they choose to show themselves to you,” Sylvain says airily. That’s not really true, in Felix’s case. What he chooses to show people always equates to his actual self. People just choose to ignore what’s right in front of them. “I think he did it because there isn’t a fencing team nearby, though. That, and it’s free exercise.”

Ingrid pinches the bridge of her nose. “Of course Felix would join a dance team to _ exercise_. I’m sure he hasn’t tried to stop smoking yet either.”

“Nope,” Sylvain replies cheerily, “and don’t bother talking to him about it too. He won’t listen. How’s Dimitri?”

Ingrid sighs and shakes her head, clearly disappointed. But she doesn't remark on it. “Dimitri’s great, actually. Law school makes him want to tear his hair out, but he has Dedue.” She says it with a smile. Sylvain frowns.

“Dimitri and Dedue…?”

His friend looks him up and down, and then raises an eyebrow. “They’ve been together for almost two months. Don’t tell me you didn’t know, Sylvain.”

The news hits him like a truck. Of course, it was to be expected, but… “Shit, man. I didn’t know. Dimitri never told me.”

“Maybe he was waiting for you to approach him first,” Ingrid says a little coldly. Her phone vibrates, and she looks down at her screen before a soft smile blooms across her face. “Sorry, Sylvain, I forgot I made plans with Ashe and Annette. Say hello to Felix for me, okay?” She gets up and throws her backpack over her shoulder, stops to pocket her phone and glance back at him. “And pay attention to the people around you. Felix shouldn’t be what you orbit.”

_ Shut the fuck up_, Sylvain wants to say in a spark of anger. _ You don’t understand. Sometimes it feels like you three are all I have left_.

But he doesn't say that. Instead, he smiles a wide, fake smile, and says “Thanks for the advice, Ingrid.”

She steps out of the apartment with a huff of breath. Sylvain is alone and the apartment is silent. He’s been alone for the past twenty-four years, he thinks to himself wryly.

Sylvain grows up on a strong economical foundation (his family is a rich, well-off one) and a weak emotional one (his family is dysfunctional as all hell), meaning he doesn't think much of what he has, because he has too much. At the same time, he grows up with nothing - without the love of his parents, and without the love his own brother.

When he’s in preschool, he gets pushed into the gifted program almost immediately. His dad forces him through grueling math problems and gives him almost no free time until he inevitably drops out in third grade. Miklan gets disregarded as a problem child by the time his older brother is nine, because he has anger issues strong enough to rival a prison inmate and he’s probably just as strong. Sylvain gets the brunt of his anger and the weight of his parent’s pressure to be the successful kid and he thinks it breaks a part of him into unrecognizable pieces at a young age, and maybe that’s why he turned out the way he has.

Maybe Miklan turned out the way he did because of Sylvain, too, not like he thinks he has that much significance in anyone’s life. Maybe his parents are hard and cold because they got two sons who couldn’t give them what they wanted - peace of mind, and for different reasons. 

Either way, he meets Dimitri and Felix when he’s seven years old and on the school playground. He and Ingrid watch as Dimitri gets cornered by a few big kids with bigger egos, before a angry-looking blue haired boy steps in and somehow beats them all down until they’re bruised and crying. A teacher shows up and glances at the four of them before dragging them into the principal’s office.

“I didn’t mean to drag the three of you into this,” Dimitri blubbers while the principal calls Sylvain’s dad, “I’m really sorry. Right, Felix?”

“Sure,” the blue-haired kid mutters, eyes cast downwards as he swings his legs in his chair. Sylvain finds him fascinating in that moment but doesn't think much of it. “Yeah. Whatever.”

“That means sorry in Felix language,” Dimitri tells them, still crying, and Felix gives him a murderous look that must not mean much because Dimitri doesn't even acknowledge it.

Next to him, Ingrid huffs. “You need to grow a spine sometime soon,” she tells Dimitri, but not unkindly. “Those kids had no right to bully you!”

Dimitri just sniffles and wipes an sleeved arm across his nose. _ A lost cause_, Sylvain thinks, _ but a cute one_.

It turns out Felix’s dad and Sylvain’s dad already know each other, and Felix gets explicit permission to sleep over at his house after he gets grounded for two weeks. Ingrid lives next to Dimitri - “His house is so _ big_, Syl,” she whispers conspiratorially while they wait in line for lunch, “I had no idea he was super rich, but he is!” - and it almost feels like fate that they met all together at once, even though Sylvain only ever sees Dimitri when they’re walking to different classes. 

He gets close with Felix almost immediately. He learns that Felix likes to fence and has an older brother who he can never quite beat when they spar with each other. Felix is emotional and comes crying to Sylvain whenever he gets into a fight with Glenn or Dimitri. Felix also has a huge heart, and when Miklan pulls yet another stunt and abandons Sylvain in a forest at eight years old, he pulls Sylvain in close and makes him promise to never leave him. Sylvain takes this promise to heart. In a way, it becomes a piece of him.

“Bernadetta stopped by earlier.”

“What, no hello?” Sylvain jokes as Felix kicks his shoes off and hangs his fur coat up in Sylvain’s front-door closet, closing the door behind him. Felix gives him a very dry, very unimpressed look. This usually means he’s either two seconds away from finding the nearest kitchen knife to stab him with or he’s two minutes away from laughing. Being the optimist he is, Sylvain decides to go with the latter.

“Hello,” Felix drawls as he collapses onto Sylvain’s old leather couch, rubbing his temples. He’s wearing skinny jeans and a sweater that used to belong to Dimitri, which makes something in Sylvain crackle, but not out of jealousy. “Bernadetta stopped by earlier.”

Sylvain raises an eyebrow. He turns the stove off from where he’d been making an omelette before Felix barged in. “Okay, and?” He asks. “You want a high five for having friends?”

The glare Felix casts him is nothing short of dangerous, but he isn’t intimidated. He never has been. “She dropped her fucking cat off at my place because she’ll be heading out of town for winter break. Can you believe this bullshit? It’s the one she got from the shelter Mercedes volunteers at. The one she named after me, to be specific.”

Sylvain chuckles and sits himself down next to Felix, involuntarily shying away from a questionable but unremovable stain he’d never been able to get off despite trying for a few hours. The lamp’s glow is dim, so Sylvain shuts his eyes and leans back against the cushions. “Doesn't she have, like, seventy cats?”

“Yeah, and for no fucking reason at all,” Felix grouses. “She’s been giving them to different people and apparently thought I’d take good care of her stupid pet.”

“You just called yourself a stupid pet,” Sylvain teases, grinning when Felix groans.

“Shut up. What the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t smoke with this thing around.”

“I’m pretty sure you uttered those exact words when you had to room with Dimitri,” he says thoughtfully. “But if baby Felix will force you to stop smoking, then that’s definitely for the better.”

“I’ll get a damn cat in _ your _ apartment and see how you fucking like it when you bring a girl home and that thing just stares at you the entire fucking time.”

He hasn’t brought any girls home in a while. “Dude, you _ like _ cats.”

“No I don’t,” Felix says immediately, and he scoffs.

“Right, and tell that to Mercedes the next time you bring her lunch and she lets you play with the cats,” Sylvain says.

Felix pauses for a moment. “... Well, it’s not like Bernadetta has to fucking know that,” he mutters almost sheepishly, and he just can’t help his laugh.

Sylvain’s never been much of a science guy, but he’s pretty sure the heart isn’t supposed to function like a ticking time bomb around a person you like. A person _ he _ likes. The crush he’s been harboring for a while now. The boy he’s been in love with for five years, or maybe since they were kids holding onto each other for dear life and making promises to never go where one can’t tread after, to stay together until they physically can’t.

Yeah, that’s deep. What sort of cosmic fucking irony, he thinks, pushes two best friends together like this? What if they’d never met, and Felix stuck with Dimitri while Sylvain stuck with Ingrid? The questions get wiped from his mind when Felix shifts to swing a leg over his before settling into his lap like he’s meant to be there.

“Are you doing some thinking for once?” The younger boy asks amusedly, tapping the side of Sylvain’s head for emphasis. “That’d be a first.”

“You can’t talk when I helped you pass calculus senior year.”

“If I had a fucking nickel for every time you’ve used this against me…” Felix mutters, exasperated. Sylvain laughs.

When Felix kisses him, Sylvain responds naturally. His palms slide up to settle on Felix’s waist. He smiles into Felix’s lips when he fumbles for Sylvain’s shoulders, and succumbs to the way Felix keeps it soft and intimate, so unlike how he normally is that Sylvain can’t help but melt. Felix takes in increments, in the way he presses closer and coaxes Sylvain’s lips open with the tip of his tongue. He tastes like the cinnamon gum he always keeps on him and wintertime, whatever winter would taste like if it were something edible and not just a brutal season forthcoming. There isn’t any taste of acrid smoke on Felix’s tongue.

When he pulls away, his pupils are dilated. Or maybe that’s just the lamplight. Either way, Sylvain thinks he’s gorgeous. Felix leans in again just to press their foreheads together. “You’re helping me take care of the cat.”

Sylvain’s about to respond with an _ Uh, no thanks_, when Felix’s hands slide in behind his ears and into his hair, tilting his head back to press his lips against Sylvain’s jaw. “Y-you can’t ask things of me when we’re about to make out.”

“Yeah, I can.” Felix murmurs easily. “You’ll help me, right? Finals are too soon for this. Actually, if you don’t help me I’ll just kill you.” His voice regains some of its usual edge here. In a way, it clears a bit of Sylvain’s mind.

He scoffs. Drags his fingers up Felix’s torso, feels the muscles of his abdomen tense and listens to the hitch of Felix’s breath while he works on his neck, dragging meaningless, involuntary noises out of Sylvain. He thinks about he’d never say no to any version of Felix that wanted something from him.

What an ugly thought, to know that you’d give everything for one person. This is about a fucking _ cat_. He shouldn’t be so focused on it.

“Fine,” Sylvain mumbles, and if he concentrates hard enough he can feel the curve of Felix’s smile against his neck. Felix noses at the juncture between his neck and shoulder for good measure before kissing his way up to the spot behind Sylvain’s ear that always makes him whimper.

“Good,” is all Felix says before he’s going back to his lips like it’s a magnet and he just can’t help himself.

With Felix’s lips on his, his tongue in his mouth, hands in his hair and body covering his like a warm blanket in late November… Sylvain forgets about it all. The food he’d been making for dinner. The low lamplight and the way it darkens outside, so he should probably close his curtains. The fact they should be doing something more productive instead of making out like this, with finals so close.

Sylvain forgets because he can’t help himself. It’s a microcosm for his issues. He’s okay with that.

Sylvain loses his virginity at fifteen years of age, though he’d technically been fucking around since before then. There’s some significance in this date, though. Not because he remembers what the girl looked or felt like, because he doesn't, but because it happens exactly two nights after Felix’s brother’s funeral.

Glenn dies in a drunk driving incident. He’s driving Dimitri home from an internship at a law firm when his car gets t-boned from his side, killing him almost instantly and injuring Dimitri enough to leave him in the hospital for weeks. Really, it was only nine pm on a Thursday. What are the chances?

Felix screams and cries and throws things at his dad when he stares impassively at his dead body in the hospital, and then turns into a block of ice - the Felix Sylvain knows today. Sylvain watches him as his gaze turns stony, as he gets into more and more streetfights, as they start to see each other at parties the other didn’t know they were going to. His sweet, sweet Felix, turning rude and mean and rebellious. He can’t say it doesn't hurt.

But they all change. Ingrid, who idolized Glenn almost as much Felix did, throws herself into her schoolwork so intensely she manages to get seven awards in one year alone. She starts hanging out with girls like Dorothea and Hilda, who sit at the top of their high school’s social hierarchy, so Sylvain starts to see her less. Dimitri eats himself alive with guilt for two weeks once he’s out of the hospital before his parents die in a house fire and he moves in with Sylvain. His house is huge, but he’s sure Dimitri’s sorrow etches itself into every wall and space it can get itself into because he cries himself to sleep for months, all while smiling his charming smile and putting on a brave front during the day. He makes close friends with a son of one of the servants who’d also died. His name is Dedue, so Sylvain starts to see Dimitri less too.

Sylvain thinks he starts to see himself less and less as well, but maybe he’s been doing that since he was a little kid. He gladly accepts the reputation of _ school slut _ and fucks everyone he can get his hands on, and spends the rest of his time seducing the ones that refuse to bend to his will. Miklan sneers at the way he sneaks girls and boys alike through his window late at night. “You know Father would fucking murder you if he knew,” he hisses venomously when Sylvain finishes ushering a girl out. It’s three am. Sylvain is seventeen.

“Then tell him,” Sylvain says coolly. Miklan looks him up and down before turning around and storming back off to his room again. Miklan leaves the house at low light all the time, but Sylvain knows it’s for different reasons, so he doesn't ask. Why should he?

One morning Felix shows up at his door right as Dimitri is leaving. Sylvain watches from the window as Dimitri cheerily says, “Oh, good morning, Felix! Nice to see you here so early.”

Felix looks him up and down. His hair’s tied up in his usual hairstyle, deep blue strands framing his face, and he’s in all black. If Sylvain looks closely enough, he can see his hands clenched into fists and his knuckles bruised up. “What do you want,” he says flatly.

Dimitri doesn't even frown. _ He must be used to this_, Sylvain thinks to himself. “I’m just heading out to school,” he says with a smile that would disarm any lesser person. “Student council meeting, and all.”

“That’s cool,” Felix says, voice hard. “Get out of here then.”

Sylvain can barely wait until Dimitri’s out of sight to open the door and slam it shut behind him, ignoring his father’s startled exclaim. “What the fuck was that for?” He asks, something crawling underneath his skin and making him irritable. “I know you’ve every right to be mad even though it’s been years, but Dimitri did nothing wrong to you. He _ lives _ here. The least you could do is be a little respectful to him.”

Felix’s lips curl into a sneer. “Who asked you?”

Sylvain scowls. “Are you serious, Felix? Why the hell are you even here?”

At this, Felix scuffs the grass with the toe of his tennis shoes, gaze wavering. “Uh,” he starts, seemingly at a loss for words, “I just thought we could walk to school together today, or something. I know… Miklan -”

“Yeah,” Sylvain says easily. Miklan is gone, disappeared into the night only a few days ago without a trace. He’s filled with grief and relief for the person that simultaneously ruined his life and shaped him into the person he’s turning out to be, but right now all he feels is a spark of anger. “What does it matter to you? I didn’t think you’d care.”

A flash of hurt crosses over Felix’s caramel eyes. “I just wanted to check up on you.”

He scoffs. “You say you want to check up on me, and then treat a mutual friend like he’s nothing more than an animal to you? You get into every fight you can and push people away _ constantly _ and then come up to me like this?” He hates the way tears spring to his eyes at the way Felix almost curls in on himself. “We all care about you, you know.”

“I’m aware,” Felix snaps. “I - I know. You think I haven’t been suffering?”

“You think the rest of us haven’t been suffering too, Felix?” Sylvain shoots back. The sky’s a clear blue and the sun shines overhead, lightening Felix’s eyes but doing nothing to hide the way his gaze sharpens and solidifies into an impenetrable rock.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” Felix hisses. “My entire fucking life I’ve been told to keep myself under control for the sake of everyone around me. I’m not an _ idiot_. I know we’ve all fucking suffered!” His voice is loud and clear and grates on Sylvain’s ears. “I know that! You don’t think my own dad doesn't fucking remind me of this every single day? He cared more about Glenn and Dimitri than he ever cared about me. I’m expendable to him and to the rest of you, aren’t I?”

“No you fucking aren’t,” Sylvain exclaims. Felix’s eyes widen when he notices the tears dripping onto his cheeks, but makes no move to do anything about it. “Not to me, Felix. Not to me.” _ You’re all I have left_, he thinks. Dimitri’s around but he’s closed himself off beyond repair. Ingrid isn’t ever around in the first place. The friends he makes at school feel like nothing more than trophies to him. But Felix is here, and he hates that he can’t say it. 

He hates that Felix probably knows, too, and doesn't acknowledge it. He hates the way his parents give him indifferent glances when he walks back inside with tears streaking down his cheeks and yet another broken friendship staining his hands some invisible color as Felix storms off. He hates the way he walks into class and all eyes turn to him out of disgust, and interest, and maybe a little pity. He hates it all, and can’t do anything about it.

Felix’s dad will die two years into college from lung complications. Sylvain finds this ironic because Felix picks up his smoking habit a few days after they fight as teenagers, and doesn't stop despite his tentative protests. But the world moves on, and Sylvain refuses to let himself fall behind. He picks up art after he meets a short, gray-haired boy named Ashe, and immerses himself in the hobby, graduates high school with flying colors and moves to the next scene of his life with shaky footsteps.

Felix ends up making a little room for kitty Felix in the corner of his small living space. There’s the cat litter, a cushion for him to sleep on, and an assortment of toys and food. Felix scowls at the way Sylvain’s eyes light up at the sight. “He’s surprisingly docile,” he grumbles. “Doesn't like to move around a lot, so I gave him a space to call his. For now.”

"Felix,” Sylvain grins, “you are so fucking cute.”

“Shut the _ fuck _ up before I chop your dick off, Gautier,” Felix hisses.

Felix (the cat) is small with a sleek black coat and eyes not unlike Felix’s own caramel color, which is why he supposes Bernadetta named the cat after him in the first place. He trods up to him and blinks calmly, and Sylvain kneels to scratch behind his ears, delighting in the way he paws at Sylvain’s knee and purrs immediately. “The similarities end with your eyes, you know,” Sylvain remarks, because he just can’t help himself. “This cat just radiates such a peaceful energy.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Felix snaps. There’s no heat behind it. He leans down and picks baby Felix up almost delicately before walking over to the cat’s cushion and setting him down there - but not before rubbing their noses together. Sylvain’s chest floods with so much warmth at the sight of it that he physically aches and worries his ribs will explode. Then Felix turns to him with a hopeful look in his eyes. “Did you bring the cat food I asked you to get?”

“Of course,” Sylvain says, picking up the bags he’d left at the foot of the door in favor of kissing Felix at the entryway. “I’m always running errands for you, huh?”

A ghost of a smile breathes life into Felix’s lips. “I’m a stay-at-home single cat dad, you idiot. I’m practically helpless right now without you.”

He dutifully ignores the part where Felix called himself single. “My bad,” he teases instead. “You _ must _ forgive me for being so insensitive.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“You know… Ingrid stopped by the other day,” he says quietly. He lays down on Felix’s bed with his phone out as Felix busies himself with cooking ramen. “I forgot to tell you when you visited. She told me to say hello.”

“Did she now,” Felix says, sounding a little distracted. “Tell her to kindly fuck off, please.”

Sylvain laughs and shakes his head. “You use _ please _ in the worst contexts. She wants to make up with you, you know. What did you even fight about this time?”

He asks because Felix’s shoulders are relaxed, loose t-shirt almost hanging off his shoulders. He has permission, in Felix’s language. “She brought up some unsavory memories.”

“You mean Glenn,” Sylvain says slowly.

“Ding ding,” Felix drawls, turning off the stove on he faces him and leans back against his small counter. “She always had a crush on him, which is why I don’t trust her taste at all. Brought him up when I said she’s struggled over nothing compared to the three of us.” Him, Sylvain, Dimitri. Sylvain purses his lips. “She got mad and guilt tripped me over him like the bitch she is. I’m not mad,” he says thoughtfully, crossing his arms, “but… I’m not immune to emotion either, you know. The years since he’s died, since Father died… they’ve been difficult. But I’m _ trying_. I don’t think she understands that you and I are trying, which is why I got so mad.”

Sylvain’s distracted by the fact that Felix stuck up for him too, stuck up for his career choice as a art professor, suck up for the way they’ve always been stuck to each other like glue, therefore sharing each other’s pain like a second skin and refusing to move on from it. Felix lost Glenn and Rodrigue. Sylvain lost Miklan and possibly himself, but… “You’re doing so well now, you know,” Sylvain says carefully, because he doesn't want to ruin the air of acceptance surrounding them. “Um, I’m proud of you.”

Felix’s gaze is unreadable. “Listen carefully, because I’m not going to say this ever again,” he says. “You, and Dimitri, and Ingrid… have all been my anchors. Sometimes I feel like I have no purpose. Do you know why I decided to study computer science?”

He doesn't want to say it. “Because Glenn studied it,” he whispers.

Felix nods. “When you lose someone you’ve admired for your entire life, what’s left? I chase after a corpse’s dream. Rodrigue - my father - always kept his promise to Dimitri’s father in mind before he thought about me. He wasn’t a bad person, and I don’t hate him. But he wasn’t a good father. When you lose your foundation, something that’s supposed to be there to hold you up until you can hold yourself up, the only choice is to either fall, or push through on your own. That’s the principle I’ve lived on for so long. But you three…” he frowns and shuts his eyes, obviously in pain. Sylvain wants so _ badly _ to get up and hold him in his arms, but he holds himself back. “I didn’t realize that we could’ve been helping each other this entire time, so instead I shut you all out.”

Sylvain ignores the flash of hurt. “You shut me out too, huh?”

Here, Felix shakes his head. “I - I don’t know. You were my only constant, Sylvain, as loathe as I am to admit it. It’s such bullshit, but it’s true.”

_ I love you_, Sylvain wants to say. But maybe Felix isn’t ready to cross that bridge just yet. “And Ingrid and Dimitri…?”

“Sometimes I wonder if they see Glenn in me and can’t stand it,” he says, laughing humorlessly. “Ingrid avoided me so much during high school that I wondered if she really wanted me out of my life. Dimitri hated the fact that I got into so many fights in and out of school and probably didn’t want to associate himself with me. He had Dedue. Ingrid had her own group of friends, too. I didn’t have anyone.”

“You had me,” Sylvain blurts even as heat rises to his cheeks. “I’ve always been around.”

“You have, haven’t you?” Felix says softly. He turns off the stove. “I… I appreciate that.”

The thing about Felix is that his emotions are constantly at the tip of his tongue. They coat the inside of his mouth and fill him up so wildly that he used to break down at the slightest mishap as children. But there’s a block inside him now that stops him from being expressive and leaves him jagged and rough and sometimes a little too cruel, so the fact that he’s opening up to Sylvain again like this - he appreciates it more than words can tell. So he decides to show it to him in the way he gets up and reaches out to Felix and tugs him in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “The past, like, ten years have been so shitty,” he says with a chuckle, “haven’t they? But I’m ready to move forward and reconnect.”

“Well, I guess I am too,” Felix says with a small, secret smile. “If the others are as well. Where you go, I follow, right?”

That stupid, silly little promise they made as kids echoes in his mind. “Of course,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to Felix’s and taking in the way the smaller boy places his hands on his shoulders without even thinking about it. “And you’re gonna start this journey by breaking off your smoking habit.”

Felix groans and leans back to glare at Sylvain. “Ugh, shut up about that, would you? I actually haven’t smoked in a little bit.”

Sylvain raises an eyebrow. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he mutters. “You’re so fucking irritating about it. And then Dimitri stopped by the other day and brought Dedue with him and they talked to me about it. Not like it’ll be easy to stop -”

“At least you’re trying,” Sylvain says, feeling hopeful because Felix wants to stop smoking and Felix spoke to Dimitri and maybe the four of them can try to make amends for real this time.

“You gotta stop bringing girls around all the time, too, then,” Felix shoots back, narrowing his eyes. “An eye for an eye, Gautier.”

Sylvain laughs and shakes his head, holding Felix against him. “I haven’t brought girls home in a while, man,” he replies. “Honestly, that shit kind of loses its appeal when you’re constantly stressed out over your theses.”

“Character development on another level, huh?” Felix asks, but there’s a teasing lilt to his tone. “Wasn’t expecting that from _ you_, of all people.”

Sylvain still has things he wants to say. Felix probably still has things he wants to feel, too, but they don’t get to let it out, because Felix drags him down for a kiss that lasts for what feels like hours. Outside, the first snowflakes start to fall. But they’re inside, and they’re warm, and they’re with each other, which Sylvain thinks is what matters most. Or whatever sappy bullshit. He abandons the thought in favor of pressing himself as close to Felix as possible in this moment, until he isn’t sure where he ends and Felix begins.

Ashe’s eyes light up when Sylvain ducks into the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant he’s been eyeing for a while but never found the energy or the people to check it out with. He’s the first one to notice him there and waves wildly at him, beckoning him over to their table while Sylvain blinks snow out of his eyes and brushes fat, quickly liquefying flakes off his the shoulders of his huge knee-length coat.

“Feels like forever since I last saw you,” he laughs while Annette cheers and makes space for him to sit in their horseshoe booth. “It’s been too long!”

“I’m really sorry about that,” Sylvain says, and he means it. Mercedes slides out from the other side to stand up and wrap him in a warm hug, and he buries his face in her shoulder. “I missed you guys over these last few months.”

“We missed you as well,” Mercedes says. Her hair’s cut into a short bob. Sylvain can’t help but marvel at how mature it makes her look. “But you’re here now, right?”

“I am,” Sylvain breathes.

A new beginning of sorts means he’s been getting himself back together and reconnecting. Felix and Ingrid made up a few days after that afternoon months ago, too. It’s February now, meaning Sylvain’s almost done with university. Dimitri beams at him now, long blonde hair tied back, and Sylvain eyes the way he holds hands with Dedue under the table. “It’s so good to see you, Sylvain,” Dimitri says, eyes bright. 

Sylvain grins. “It’s good to see you too, man.” He nods at Dedue. “You too. And… congratulations. I’m sorry I never even knew you two were together.”

“It’s quite alright,” Dedue says warmly.

Off to the side, sitting next to Ashe, Ingrid gives him a warm smile. It’s a welcoming one too.

He notices the single absence right when the bell jingles again and they all turn to see Felix as he steps into the restaurant. Sylvain can’t help but think he looks oddly beautiful in his white sweatshirt and black jeans, nose and cheeks tipped red from the cold as he turns to look at them. His eyes settle on Sylvain, and his smile is small but _ there_, so he grins back. 

“Took you long enough!” Annette complains even as she drags Felix into a bone-crushing hug while the boy yelps and clings on for dear life. “We’ve been waiting forever! I’m starving!”

“Sorry,” Felix chokes out. “Practice ran a little late.” He slides into the booth next to Sylvain and flicks his knee in greeting before he glances over at Dimitri. “Hey, Dimitri. I hope you’ve all been doing well, you sentimental idiots.”

Dimitri’s smile could rival the sun if it wanted to. “Happy to see you too, Felix.”

Sylvain and Ingrid glance at each other for a moment, wide-eyed, before Dedue cuts through the chatter to ask, “Shall we order?”

“Hey,” Felix murmurs later when their food shows up and everyone starts digging in. He nudges Sylvain’s leg with his own to catch his attention. “I got a job offer at an IT company right off campus. Don’t make that fucking face,” he hisses when Sylvain’s eyes widen comically. “You look _ so fucking _ suspicious right now.”

“Shit, sorry,” Sylvain mumbles with a soft laugh, schooling his features into a more neutral expression. “But that’s so good! You’re gonna take it, right?”

Felix nods. “Of course. I get to stay in the area, which is great.” _ I get to stay with you_, is what Sylvain reads in the subtext and chooses to let himself idealize for a moment. “We can move in together, if you want. Just to save money.”

He looks into Felix’s warm eyes for a moment and sees nothing there but sincerity and affection. “Yeah, I’d… I’d like that.”

Felix looks like he does right before he pulls Sylvain into a kiss. Sylvain doesn't get to see if he does because just then Annette punches him. “Hiding secrets from us, huh?” She asks teasingly, and they jerk apart, looking at the rest of the table. Everyone looks back at them with knowing looks on their faces. “Got something to tell us?”

Next to him, Felix stiffens. Sylvain takes the reins. “We were just discussing the health benefits of oral sex,” he says easily.

“Sylvain,” Mercedes says disapprovingly, and Felix covers his face with his hands in embarrassment while Sylvain and Annette guffaw and give each other high fives.

It’s easy like this, he thinks, to press a quick kiss to Felix’s cheek and make fun of his blush when no one’s looking because they’re all getting ready to leave. It’s easy to imagine a future with his friends around and Felix by his side, because Sylvain is a romantic at heart, but he knows the world doesn't work like that. You don’t get handed your happiness on a silver platter. The road to his happiness will be and always has been a hard one.

“Stop thinking so hard,” Felix mutters when they leave and Sylvain stares hard at the pavement as they walk. “You look stupid.”

“I always look stupid to you,” Sylvain points out, and Felix snorts. Takes his hand and interlaces their fingers.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

But he can dream. He’s always been good at that.

**Author's Note:**

> if this fic feels fragmented / ambiguous / dissonant then it means i achieved my goal with this writing style, but i probably won't be testing it out again... it frustrated me to no end tbh. also i'd much prefer writing happy sylvix 
> 
> comments + kudos are always appreciated!! come talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_fraldarius) i'm on priv a lot but reqs are always okay ♡


End file.
